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Now that Randy truly thinks about it, maybe calling Billy Loomis a “rat-looking, homo-repressed mama’s boy” wasn’t exactly his best idea. In his defence, Dewey had told him to stall, and what better way to do that than… insult the killer.
Yeah, he should have thought of a different plan.
Now, Randy knows the rules of surviving a horror movie. He’s basically memorised them, following them to a T. Well… almost. Maybe that’s how he ended up in his situation.
Rule 1: never have sex. Rule 2: never drunk of do drugs. The sin factor. Rule 3: never, ever, under any circumstances say “I’ll be right back”. You won’t be back.
Maybe a fourth rule should be added, Randy thinks; never split up. He had never considered it a real rule, it was just common sense. But, even as Gale and Dewey had left him to go and find the killer, he had thought nothing of it.
That was, until he had been grabbed around the torso and pulled roughly into a dark van. The cold, hard floor of the van dug into his back as he stared up at the infamous white mask that haunted his dreams.
A knife was raised above the killer’s head, and Randy sprung into action. He raced towards the door of the van, before once again being grabbed roughly by the front of his jacket.
(It was a nice jacket, he’d rather get out of this disaster without getting blood on it, but he’s not really in any position to be focusing on that.)
He was slammed back against the window of the van, which broke on impact. Whoever it may be behind the mask, from Derek, to Mickey, to Hallie, Randy had to admit that they were definitely not lacking in the strength factor.
He feels himself get thrown to the ground. He doesn’t get to dwell on the newfound ache in his back, only the knife rapidly making its way down to his stomach, and then searing, white pain.
Randy thinks he blacks out for a second. He doesn’t remember seeing the killer pull their hand up for the second blow. He doesn’t register that they even have until the cool metal, once again, makes its way into his abdomen.
He feels something sticky on his face by the third stab. Red engulfs his vision, crosses past his eyes, and he realises that that ‘something’ is blood. His blood.
His eyes fluttered closed, then open, then closed, then open. Again and again. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt. His throat hurt; probably from the screaming. Definitely from the screaming.
His eyes closed. Opened. Closed. Opened. He isn’t too sure where the killer went. He doesn’t really care at this point in time. Closed. Opened. Closed.
He hears the door get pulled along, then a scream. High-pitched. Female. Sidney? God, Sidney. He never told her how he felt. Would he ever get the chance to?
Opened.
His eyes blur, but he can easily make out three people standing in front of him. Their fuzzy figures are moving in front of him, and he feels cool hands grab at his face. They push it to the side, before two fingers feel around his neck, before setting on his steadily beating pulse.
A male voice shouts something. Something about a doctor, as they grab him around his shoulders and knees and pull him carefully out of the van.
“Okay, okay Randy.” He hears a voice mutter above him. “You need to keep your eyes open, Randy. Can you do that for me, kid? Eyes open. There you go.”
The world twirls around him. Almost like a ballerina. Randy laughs at the thought. He doesn’t know why.
“Hey, there you are.” The same voice says to him. “There you are. Want to tell me what was so funny? I’m sure I won’t get it, you know how we old people are.”
‘Old people’, the voice had said.
Randy’s not old. No, Randy is young. Randy is eighteen and he’s about to die.
He opens his mouth to speak to the voice. Answer his question? Cry? He doesn’t exactly know. He doesn’t find out, either, because blood immediately invades his mouth and slides down his throat.
The arms holding him tip, forcing the blood away from his mouth and against the ground. Randy dully notes that a crowd has formed around them. None of them do anything, though. They’re all too content to watch a boy choke on his own blood before them.
Flashes of red and blue slowly get closer, and sirens become far too loud. He brings his hands up to cover his ears, but they quickly fall limp as he loses his energy.
The man holding him slowly and gently puts him down on the ground, before once again bringing two fingers up to his pulse. The man sighs, before saying, “It’s okay, Randy. You’re okay. You can go to sleep now.”
As his consciousness fades, he hears the female voice from earlier speak. “Dewey, is he going to be okay?”
A loud silence, before finally, the man who was holding him - Dewey, apparently - speaks.
“I don’t know.”
And his eyes flutter closed.
***
“So, Randy.”
His eyes snap open at the voice. He turns to see the one and only Billy Loomis standing in a vast sea of just black . He has blood covering his face and clothes. “You’re dead. Fuckin’ finally. It was getting boring with just Stu here.”
Randy heard a giggle from behind him - hauntingly familiar. He turns around to see the lanky frame of Stu Macher bent over at the waist.
When he straightens, Randy can see nasty burn scars across his face and slightly down his neck. He brings a finger up to lazily point at Billy. “Come on, man. You know you love me.”
Billy only rolls his eyes and turns back to Randy. “See that? Absolute madness, I’m telling you.“ He shakes his head but still sends a fond smile Stu’s way. The smile suddenly turns cold when he once again turns to face Randy. “So, Randy. Haven’t seen you in a while, huh? Last I saw, you were bleeding out on the floor of Stu’s house. How did you survive?”
Randy opens his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to speak. His throat only releases choked stutters, as he looks back and forth between the two killers.
“Cause he’s a virgin!” Stu rolls his eyes. “Don’t you know the rules, man?”
“What fucking rules?” Billy whispers under his breath. “Anyways,” he says louder, “Glad you’re here, kid. You can fill us in on everything we’ve missed. You look like shit, dude. Let’s start there.”
He numbly brings a hand up to his face before realising that, yes, the sticky blood is still covering almost every inch of his face. His clothes are reddened beyond recognition.
“There’s…” Randy finally brings himself to speak. His voice is as weak as he’d expected. “There’s another one.” He points at the two. “Another killer. Patterned after you two. Mask, cloak and all.”
“A sequel!” Stu punches the air with a grin on his face. “We actually got a sequel! A seq- how did we get a sequel exactly?” The boy suddenly turns to Randy. “Why did people care so much?”
“Well.” Randy rolls his eyes as he speaks. He’s not exactly sure… why he’s speaking to these two like they’re friends anymore. Maybe habit. Maybe fear. Maybe both. “Gale Weathers wrote a book about you guys. It got really famous, I guess, and now everyone is speaking about it. They made it into a movie.”
“Holy fuck.” Billy whispers under his breath. “I bet that’s great for you, Geek, but for us! Jesus Christ! A book about us! About me !”
“Should’ve stuck with ‘us’, dick.” Stu shoves his hand in Billy’s direction. Neither of them get any closer to one another, as though they’re restrained apart.
“Yeah… cool.” Randy mutters. He doesn’t remember ever getting the chance to watch the movie. He read the first few chapters of the book, but as soon as Gale started describing him as an ‘outcasted, hormonal teenage boy’, he’d slammed it shut.
He starts to feel… fuzzy. He brings his hands out in front of him, and he’s… fading? What the fuck?
“No!” Billy shouts. “Just when I wasn’t going to be stuck with only that imbecile for company, of course the doctors had to fucking resuscitate you!”
Randy’s… alive. Randy’s alive!
“Aw, man.” Stu pouts. “Well, I guess we’ll see you soon, Randy.”
“Randy.”
“Randy.”
“Randy!”
Light suddenly engulfs Randy’s vision as his eyes snap open. He feels cold. He’s wrapped loosely in a while blanket and all he can smell is bleach.
He wrinkles his nose at the smell, moving to sit up, before a sharp pain causes him to fall back. He gives up, looking to his side and seeing Dewey at his bedside.
“Hey, buddy.” Dewey barely whispers. He has tears in his eyes and his hands are clamped together against his mouth. “God, I thought we lost you there. I thought you were dead.”
“No.” Randy weakly mutters. “Couldn’t- couldn’t do that to Sid. Not after everything. Or Gale. Or you, not after Tate.”
Dewey tenses at the mention of his late sister, before his lips turn up into a small smile. “Well, I’m glad you just… decided not to die. Really appreciate that, man.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “How’s Sidney? How long have I been out, has the killer been caught?”
Dewey reaches over to the bedside table, before throwing something into Randy’s lap. A newspaper.
‘KILLERS FINALLY UNMASKED: MICKEY ALTIERI AND NANCY LOOMIS FOUND DEAD AT WINDSOR COLLEGE.’
Randy admits, he is a little saddened hearing about the death of Mickey. Him and the other boy had quickly taken a liking to one another after their transition into college. Despite his and Mickey’s petty arguments over small things such as film sequels, they had fairly decent conversations sometimes. And, if sometimes Randy would become too focused on the beautiful dark shade of Mickey’s eyes, well, no one had to know.
He’s more shocked than anything when he reads the second name. Although, it helps Randy understand the severity of his… incident. He’d met Nancy a couple of times before she’d left. She was a lovely woman, always offering to make him, Billy and Stu popcorn or snack trays whenever they’d have their monthly movie night. Last he’d heard of her, she’d left, never to return.
Until now, apparently.
Randy doesn’t realise that a tear rolls down his cheek until it hits the paper in front of him. He brings his hand up to wipe it away. This is the second time. The second time two people who he’d known and cared for have turned their backs on him.
Randy decides, in that moment, to never trust anyone again.
Except for the man who leans over and takes his hand in his own at the sight of his distraught face.
(And maybe Sidney. Gale is on thin ice but sure.)
“It’s okay, Randy.” Dewey says. “I know that this is hard for you, after everything in Woodsboro, but-“
Randy stops listening when he reads one of the lines in the paper: ‘Sidney Prescott is now recovering from her injuries in the hospital-‘
“Where is Sidney.” Randy asks, but then realised how rude it came out. “Sorry, Dewey, but where is Sid?”
“She’s in the room just across from you. You can go and see her when you’re healed up more-“
“I want to see her now.” He curs Dewey off, staring intensely at him. “I w- I need to see her now, Dewey. If- if that’s okay.”
“I-“ Dewey begins, and then sighs, “Her injuries aren’t quite as bad as yours, so I guess she could come through here-“
And, as if on queue, Sidney opens the door rather loudly, with only a muttered apology. Her eyes are wide as she scans the room, before her eyes set on Randy. She begins to tear up. “Oh my god, Randy, the doctor said you were going to die and- and then Gale came through to let me know that you were awake-“
“I’ll leave you two alone for now.” Dewey mutters, sending a slight ‘look’ his way.
“Yeah, go have fun with Gale, Dewey.” Randy counters, seconding the ‘look’.
Once Dewey is gone, Sidney sits down next to him. She takes his hands in her own, looking into his eyes. “Randy, I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault, I just- If I’d been there with you-“
“Sidney, this isn’t your fault.” Randy whispers. He leans forward and brings her hands, still intertwined with his own, to press against his forehead. “Not a single way is this your fault. This is Mickey and Mrs. Loomis’ fault. Not yours.”
“Mickey-“ Sidney chokes out, “Mickey- Hallie- Derek- they’re all dead. Randy, you were dead.”
“For, like, five minutes. I-“ He debates bringing up his conversation with Billy and Stu, deciding on what to say, before smiling and settling on, “I can tell you that Billy Loomis is suffering in the afterlife. He’s all pissed at everything, was actually glad to see me. Imagine being so bored that you’re glad to see me, right?”
“You…” Sidney squints her eyes, “You saw Billy?”
“And Stu.” He shrugs. “They absolutely hate each other, I think. Or love each other. I can never tell.”
He isn’t exactly sure if he did see Billy Loomis and Stu Macher in the afterlife. Maybe he didn’t even go to the afterlife at all. Maybe it was a conscious thing, like a nightmare people have while they’re in a coma. But, at least it gives him something to speak to Sidney about.
“Yeah…” Sidney mutters, looking down. There is a hint of discomfort in her voice; Randy can’t blame her, though. If he was talking about his ex who tried to murder him he’d be a little uncomfortable as well. “Was never even able to tell when they were alive.”
Randy’s eyes scan over her face for a moment. Tears are still sitting at the sides of her eyes, but not falling. She fidgets subconsciously with the covers that hang loosely off of him.
“Hey.” He whispers. Sidney’s eyes slowly come up to meet his own, and he tries his best to give her the most convincing smile that he can. “Want to go see a movie sometime?”
Sidney thinks, and then smiles. That gorgeous, toothy smile that Randy thinks about everyday.
“As long as it’s not a scary one.”